


Moving Toward Better, Together

by eeyore9990



Series: December Gift Fic Spree [24]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Grief/Mourning, M/M, Shower Sex, references canonical character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 12:03:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2850212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris assured Isaac he’d be okay; Isaac didn’t hear the lie in his voice then, but he hears it now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving Toward Better, Together

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badwolfbadwolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfbadwolf/gifts).



> December Fic Spree, Day 25: Gift for badwolfbadwolff!
> 
> I LOVE YOU, BB. THIS IS GOING TO BE THE VERY BEST YEAR. SO MANY GOOD THINGS. 
> 
> Happy December 25th/MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

It took Isaac a week to stop seeing Allison dying every time he closed his eyes. Sleeping was nearly impossible and his eyes burned all the time. For everything he’d seen, everyone he’d lost in his life, it was like her death was the one that broke him. He spent days just lost in a whirl of thoughts — about Camden, his dad, Boyd, Erica, Allison — exhaustion swamping his entire body until the creature under his skin took over and _forced_ him to sleep.

When he woke up… it wasn’t better. It couldn’t possibly be _better_ , not after all the deaths he’d seen, but they no longer consumed him. He could see beyond his own grief for the first time. And what he saw shook him, made a knot form in his stomach.

Since Allison died, he’d stayed with her father, living in her apartment and sleeping in her bed where the scent of her grew a little more faint with every passing hour. He knew that eventually, it would fade away entirely, and that thought was enough to freeze his breath in his lungs. 

But more pressing than that, more important than his own grief, was the destruction he was finally able to see around him. Not in the apartment. Though the curtains were drawn, the apartment remaining in shades of twilight even during the brightest of daylight hours. The destruction was to Mr. Argent. _Chris._

Allison’s dad.

Isaac studied him closely, saw the way grief deepened the lines around his eyes, etched new ones around his mouth. Watched as Chris let go of all sense of personal hygiene, wearing the same clothes from one day to the next, walking through life in a haze, falling asleep in chairs or on the couch, or in the hall outside Allison’s room, clutching what must have been a treasured childhood stuffed animal. 

He maintained his distance because if there was one thing he knew, it was that men overwhelmed with grief at the passing of a beloved child would strike out at those around them. They turned into hideous caricatures of themselves, _hurt_ others to dull their own pain. Isaac spent two solid days avoiding the kitchen in the Argent apartment, staying as far from the large freezer as possible. 

He let his own demons command his actions for too long. Long enough for Chris to sink fully into his despair.

It wasn’t until Chris collapsed in front of him that Isaac was finally able to stop expecting Chris to turn into his father. He rushed forward, catching Chris before he could injure himself, lowering him gently to the floor as his mind raced. He didn’t know what to do; he just knew he needed to do _something_. 

First, it seemed, he needed to get food and water into Chris. Lifting him gently, he carried Chris into the kitchen, flinching just a little as he walked past the freezer. In the refrigerator, he found oranges; cradling Chris to his chest, he seated himself at the small table and peeled one, splitting the sections apart and rubbing the juicy meat of the fruit against Chris’ pale, dry lips. 

Isaac smiled for the first time in days, a tiny, relief-filled thing, when Chris’ bruised-looking eyelids twitched and then fluttered open, a questioning, startled sound croaking from him. 

"Shh." Isaac pressed a slightly sticky hand to Chris’ cheek, a clumsy attempt at comfort. "I’ve got you. I’m sorry I didn’t notice before." He flicked a quick, almost frightened look at Chris before returning to squeezing the juice of the orange into Chris’ mouth. 

"Notice what?" Chris asked, voice hoarse and dry even as he struggled to push himself to a seated position before slumping against the table, drained.

"I… you haven’t eaten. Or slept, really. Not enough." Isaac reached up, ran a hand over the weeks’ worth of bristly hair that coated Chris’ cheek. "When was the last time you shaved? Bathed?"

Chris jerked away from him, eyes dull. “I’m fine,” he muttered, trying and failing to climb off Isaac’s lap.

"You told me you would be. I didn’t hear the lie then." Putting a hand on Chris’ shoulder, he tried for a harder tone, something more firm and commanding. "I hear it now." Scooting his chair back, he gently lifted Chris and settled him into his own seat. "This stops now," he said, forcing himself to hold Chris’ gaze. "I’m going to make food, and we’re both going to eat it. You’re going to get some fluids in you, and then you’re going to take a shower and… and sleep. We’re going to sleep tonight," he finished, his voice much less certain.

"Stop treating me like a child, dammit."

"I’m not." Grabbing Chris’ clenched fist, Isaac smoothed his thumb over it until Chris relaxed, his fingers falling open. "I’m treating you like a…" He blinked, looking down. "A friend?"

Chris’ angry gaze shifted to their hands, and the anger melted away to be replaced by the same numbing grief that had been there for too long. Isaac left his hand where it was, ignoring the embarrassment curling through him. Chris needed this, needed the reminder that he wasn’t alone. 

Isaac had already left him alone too long, too focused on his own grief to see the way Chris’ was consuming him.

Pushing the orange across the table, Isaac murmured, “Finish this. I’ll make toast and eggs, get you some water. We’ll go to the store later and find some easy meals. Things I can fix.”

"You should go home," Chris said, shoulders slumping as his eyes fell closed.

"No." Without qualifying his refusal, Isaac stood and went to the refrigerator, taking out eggs. He pulled the bread from its place on top of the refrigerator, nose wrinkling when he saw that it was fuzzy with mold. "Just eggs, I think," he muttered, throwing the bag of bread into the trash.

"There are some bagels in the freezer."

Isaac looked at the freestanding freezer, felt his throat begin to close up. Turning back to the cabinets, he began to root through them until he found a fry pan, clanging it onto the stove with a trembling hand. “Just the eggs,” he whispered, shaking his head. 

A hand fell on his shoulder and Isaac jumped, nearly dumping the entire carton of eggs onto the floor. 

"I’ll get them," Chris said easily, moving around Isaac and fetching the bagels from the freezer. 

Isaac stayed at the stove, eyes squeezed tight, until he heard the sucking noise of the freezer door being opened and then thumped shut. Breathing out, he blindly cracked the eggs into the pan, not bothering with oil or butter, trying not to let Chris see how badly shaken he was. But the sound of Chris moving around, his slow, almost dragging tread on the tile floor, brought Isaac back to himself better than anything else could have. 

He needed to take care of Chris. 

The eggs were slightly rubbery and very bland when he scraped them onto two plates, but Chris didn’t say anything about them, just sprinkled some cheese on the top and thumped a tub of butter onto the table for spreading over the raisin bagels. Isaac flicked his eyes to Chris, wondering if he could pick the raisins out, then just clenched his jaw and ate them as they were. 

When he was finished, he looked over to see that Chris had barely made a dent in his food. There were a few bites missing of his bagel, and more than half his eggs remained on his plate, badly mangled from being pushed around aimlessly.

"Eat more." Isaac waited for Chris to make a face and said, "You need to eat more than that. Please. At least finish your bagel."

An aggravated sound rumbled from Chris’ throat before he picked up his bagel, tearing at it viciously with his teeth. When it looked like he was having trouble with it, Isaac nudged the glass of tap water toward him, ignoring the way Chris rolled his eyes before picking it up and drinking it. As he swallowed the last bite of the first half of his bagel, Chris pushed his plate away. 

"I’m done." His tone dared Isaac to argue with him over it. 

Isaac simply stood, clearing their dishes and wrapping the leftover bagels up for later before scraping the eggs into the trash and setting the pan to soak. Turning around from the sink, he wiped his wet hands on his pants and said, “You need a shower.”

The mingled scents of anger and _pain_ rose strong in the air before Chris stood quickly, his chair falling over backward with a loud clatter. “Yeah? You gonna do that for me too?”

Isaac just stared back at him, swallowing down the instinctive fear that rose in his throat. He knew, he _knew_ that he had nothing to fear. If nothing else, he was physically stronger than Chris could ever be. The man couldn’t hurt him, unarmed as he was. Not physically anyway.

So instead of rising to Chris’ bait, he simply asked, “Do you need me to? I will. I’ll do anything you need to help you. You’re…” His voice trailed off, because he didn’t know what to say. _You’re the only one who understands?_

_You’re the father of the girl I loved, who didn’t love me?_

_I look at you and I see her, see everything she could have been, and I want…_

Isaac shook that thought off and stepped toward Chris, making his movements slow and easy as he slipped his arms around Chris, burying his head in Chris’ throat. “I miss her too,” he said, letting Chris hear the way his voice quavered.

"Are you going to tell me she wouldn’t want this?"

Isaac shrugged, his shoulder nudging Chris’ chest. “I don’t know. I can’t say what she would or wouldn’t want. You knew her better than I did.”

"I wonder," Chris whispered, and finally he put one arm around Isaac, pressing his face into Isaac’s hair. "I wonder if I ever knew her."

Dragging in a shaking breath, Isaac wrinkled his nose and pulled back. “But seriously, you need a shower.” Quirking one corner of his mouth, he brought his fingers up, touching them lightly to Chris’ jaw. “And probably a shave? But… maybe just like trim it?” Dropping his eyes, he whispered, “I like the beard. It looks good on you.”

Chris huffed, his arm sliding from around Isaac until only his hand remained, briefly squeezing Isaac’s shoulder before it too was gone. “It makes me look old.”

"No!" The word burst from Isaac and he shook his head, petting his fingers over the bristly hair once more. "No." Feeling foolish, he stepped back, getting out of Chris’ space. "Um. Sorry."

Chris moved to walk around him, then stumbled, catching himself on the counter. “Damn. Sorry, I…”

Isaac rushed forward, shoring him up on one side, worry filling him. “Are you okay?” 

"Yeah. I just need some sleep, I think." Head dropping forward, he sighed. "The shower sounds good, honestly, but I don’t know if I can stay upright that long. Oh well, I’ll just—"

"I’ll help you."

Chris turned his head slowly, staring at Isaac for a long moment. “You… Are you sure?”

Dipping his chin, Isaac tried to will away the blush that wanted to fill his cheeks. “Yeah. I’m sure.” He wanted to offer to carry Chris too, but he knew that would probably be pushing it too far, so he just helped him walk to the large bathroom off the master bedroom. There was a separate shower, with glass surround, and Isaac pulled them both inside it, fully clothed. “I, uh, I figured it might be easier to undress in here and then just turn on the water after. Is that okay?”

Chris just nodded, eyes falling half-way shut. 

Isaac propped him in the corner of the shower, quickly stripping his own clothing off before turning to help Chris. He didn’t mean to linger, but he found his fingers going slower and slower with each part of Chris he uncovered. The lean, powerful chest covered with salt-and-pepper hair, scars scattered across the surface. The arms that Isaac had noticed pulling the sleeves of his shirts tight. He knelt, ignoring the dull ache of his knees pressing into the cold tiles, easing Chris’ socks from his feet and then dragging in a steadying breath before he reached up toward the fly of Chris’ jeans.

"I’ve got this," Chris said, and Isaac’s eyes flew to his face. He could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks at the look he saw there. It was… considering. Slightly _knowing_. A little curious.

Isaac wished suddenly that he hadn’t already removed his own clothing.

When Chris’ jeans fell to the floor, Isaac stared hard at them, helping Chris step out of the legs and then tossing them outside the opened shower door. He did the same with the briefs that followed, trying hard not to _smell_ anything. Biting his lip, Isaac stood, putting his body between Chris’ and the shower head so that the first, startlingly cold spray, hit him first. 

At his gasp, Chris let out a little huff of a laugh, and Isaac couldn’t help the smile that curved his mouth. He didn’t really _want_ to find humor in anything, but he knew that eventually he would have to. And maybe it was okay, to find humor here, in this. With Allison’s father. Ducking his face into the spray when it shifty from icy cold to lukewarm, Isaac adjusted the temperature and then stepped aside, grabbing the shampoo and helping Chris under the spray.

Pouring a palmful of the shampoo into his hand, he spread it through Chris’ wet hair, biting his tongue to hold back another laugh when he realized he’d used way too much. The suds were ridiculous, so Isaac gathered them up, dragging his hands down to Chris’ face and working them into Chris’ cheeks and neck, shampooing his beard. At Chris’ raised eyebrow, Isaac just smirked and squeezed _more_ suds off his head, using those to lather up Chris’ chest hair.

As he worked his hands in small circles down Chris’ belly, Chris’ hands came up, wrapping around his wrists. “Isaac.”

Isaac kept his eyes trained on the white suds sliding down the backs of his hands and dripping onto Chris fingers. He couldn’t find anything to say in the suddenly too-tense atmosphere of the increasingly small shower. “It’s okay,” he finally whispered.

"You don’t have to do this."

Isaac started to flinch back, but then he smelled it. _Resignation_. Raising his eyes, he met Chris’, staring into them for a long minute as he searched for… something. “Is it… what if…” He dragged his tongue over his lips, blinking against the steam building in the shower. “What if I want to? Is it wrong to want to feel something good?”

Chris tugged on Isaac’s hands, dragging them back up his chest, and Isaac was sure he was going to be denied. But then Chris kept pulling them until they were around his neck. And Chris was stepping forward, hooking his chin over Isaac’s shoulder and tugging him close, pressing them together all down the lengths of their bodies. Isaac’s breath caught when he felt the length of Chris’ cock pressed against his thigh, half-hard. He tried not to rut forward, but lost that fight when Chris’ fingers skated down the midline of his back.

"Okay," Chris said, his voice soothing, almost drugged. "I think I need to rinse off though."

Another little half-laugh bubbled out of Isaac at that, and he turned them so that Chris’ back was to the spray, teasing his fingers through Chris’ hair until it was clean of all shampoo. Chris turned easily under his urging, eyes closed, and Isaac repeated the path of his shampooing from earlier, rinsing Chris’ beard, his chest, his belly. He reached for the body wash, squeezing some onto his trembling fingers, and smoothed them from Chris’ belly button down a few inches.

"Is this okay?" he asked, almost drowned out by the noise of the shower.

"Yeah. Yeah, it’s okay."

His fingers twitched and his hand shook as he delved even further, washing all around Chris’ cock before he wrapped his soapy fingers around it and ‘washed’ it. “Still okay?” he whispered, pressing up against Chris’ back so he could see what he was doing, the visual making him feel tight all over, breathless.

"Hmmm." Chris leaned his head back on Isaac’s shoulder, rocking his hips back against Isaac’s groin. "You tell me. Is this okay?" He swiveled his hips, dragging the top of his ass along Isaac’s cock, making his own slick through Isaac’s twitching fingers.

Pressing his mouth to Chris’ throat, he muffled a noise there, tightening his grip and jacking Chris nice and slow even as he rocked his hips, fucking into the groove of Chris’ wet ass cheeks. They stayed like that, tucked close to one another, rocking together. The water poured its warmth over them until they came, one after the other, their releases swirling down the drain. 

When Chris didn’t stop shaking afterward, Isaac turned off the shower and lifted him up, carrying him out and draping a large towel over them both before taking Chris to his bed. Pulling back the sheets and blankets, Isaac eased Chris between them, going easily when Chris’ hands tightened on him. 

"Stay," Chris said, his voice sounding as shaky as Isaac felt. 

Instead of replying, Isaac stretched out beside him, curving his body around Chris’ and tugging the blankets over them. He ignored the water still dripping from them, just pulled Chris tight against him and pressed their cheeks together, eyes sliding closed as Chris’ beard rubbed over his skin. 

"Stay," Chris said again, a pleading note entering his tone.

"As long as you need me."


End file.
